


Harima Mika Has No Regrets

by DrinkTheKink (WhatOtherPlanet)



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Bad Content, F/F, God how do you tag porn, Hate Sex, I have no idea how to tag this except that, Kissing, This probably barely counts as consensual but still be warned, Unhealthy Kismesissitude, Vaginal Fingering, i don't know what to tell you, look if you're not here for really bad hatefucking just leave now, they bang ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 05:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14948348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatOtherPlanet/pseuds/DrinkTheKink
Summary: Two girls love the same boy. One's a stalker, the other's his sister. In both cases, it's pretty fucked up.Harima Mika decides to fuck it up even more.





	Harima Mika Has No Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> Abandon hope ye who enter here. Welcome to the Yandere Shame Basement.

Yagiri Namie stared scalpels at Harima Mika. Harima Mika stared bolt cutters right on back.

"You have no idea how much I hate you," Namie said. Her coffee mug shuddered, just barely, in her hand as she set it down gingerly on the table.

Her mug. Her table. Her apartment. She'd worked hard for it, but she was quite proud of having managed to hold onto her own space, even as the world systematically took everything from her. Her company, her fortunes.

She glared at Harima Mika. _Her Seiji._

Mika laughed, and took a long sip from hers. "Oh, I _definitely_ do! I hate you too neechan. Same reason and everything."

She leaned across the coffee table, smirking like a cat. "But you know, that's the funny thing, right? It's really, truly, super terrible, but hate's one of the two most intense feelings in the world, right?"

Namie eyed the younger girl warily. "What do you mean?" she asked. Was Mika hoping for a fight? She'd asked to come to Namie's apartment, if she'd wanted an advantage, she could have done it the other way around. Namie wouldn't necessarily have gone, of course, at least not without some insurance, so maybe that was the point. Attack her in her sanctum, where she was less likely to be ready for it.

"I don't want to hurt you, neechan," Mika said, smiling ever wider. "Well, not like you're thinking, anyway."

There was a pause, as Namie regarded Mika carefully. "What are you playing at? Why did you come here?" Her fists tightened. "To _gloat?_ "

That made Mika laugh. "Not _just_ to gloat!" she said. "See the thing is, I hate you too Namie. Hate you more than you think I do. And the thing is, hate's so powerful, right? It's powerful, painful, and it's addictive. A little like love, right? I mean it's not as powerful, definitely not as powerful as what I..." she paused, smirking pointedly at Namie, "...or what _you_ feel for Seiji, but it's powerful in a different kind of way."

Namie continued to glare. "Yes," she ground out. "I agree. It is a _remarkably_ intense emotion."

"Especially laced with jealousy," Mika said, glancing aside. She laced a finger through her hair, twirling and twirling, tracing across the scars on her neck. "But y'know, there's ways to manage that, just like any other feeling, right?"

She stood up, walking slowly around the coffee table. She slid her finger through her tie, untwining it. Namie swallowed hard.

Was this how Mika came on to Seiji?

"I've been thinking about this a while you know," Mika said. She tossed the tie onto the table as she completed her circuit and stood in front of Namie, a horrible little glint in her pale blue eyes. "Ever since that time at the warehouse." she grinned. "We were interrupted then, but I can't get it out of my head." She stopped in front of Namie, her legs almost brushing up against Namie's knees.  "So what I'm really asking is, do you want to try it again?"

Namie coughed into her hand. Like this, Mika seemed so much taller than her. "What are you implying," she growled, head buzzing with a nameless aching feeling, raw and black.

"I'm saying," Mika said, with the sickest, most evil little laugh. "Do you want to kiss the lips that kiss Seiji?" She advanced, setting a knee on the couch between Namie's legs and a hand on Namie's thigh, nails digging into her stockings. Before Namie even had time to think, Mika brought her lips to her ear.

"Do you want," Mika whispered, "to fuck the body that fucks Seiji?"

There was a moment of stark, ozone-smelling silence.

Namie brought her eyes up, locking them with Mika. She'd decided.

She would _not_ lose to this... _thing_. Whatever game Mika was playing, Namie would _win._

She grabbed the back of Mika's head and forced her into a kiss.

It wasn't like before. This kiss was long, and deep, and slow, like she was a vampire draining a victim, like a murderer suffocating their victim with a pillow. The girl's body shuddered on top of her, pressing against her. The body that fucked her Seiji.

Mika was stronger than Namie thought. She wrenched herself away, long enough to breathe, to cough, and she grinned. "You must be _so_ pent-up," she said. She shifted, and then her knee was pressing against Namie's groin, a friction that made the older woman gasp sharply. "After all, you don't get to fuck Seiji. Like I do."

"I hate you," Namie sputtered. Her hands were balled into fists, the one on Mika's head tightened around her hair. "I hate you _so much."_

Mika winced, but her grin didn't diminish."Mhmm?"

Namie forced her into another kiss, and drove her own knee up into Mika's crotch. Mika let out a shrief which quickly morphed into laughter. She pressed her fingers up against Namie's collarbone. "Ahhh," she moaned, shifting back and forth, rubbing herself against Namie's knee. "You're the worst, Nami-neesan."

The knee between Mika's legs jerked, causing her to cry out again. "Stop calling me that," Namie said.

"Nah."

"I _will_ kill you."

"No you won't. You couldn't clean it up fast enough." Mika grabbed Namie's hand, the one that wasn't in her hair, and brought it up to strike. "And then Seiji would be without this lovely face."

"The face you stole."

"The face you gave me, oneesan." Mika grinned, somehow sharklike, and Namie realized something terrible.

She was not the predator here.

"Consider this my thank you."

And then Mika lunged. She bit down on Namie's neck, and Namie's whole body tensed.  But Mika didn't give her room to fight back. She caught Namie's hand and forced it away from her hair, forced both of them down against the couch. How was she this strong?

"You're not resisting much, Nami-neesan," Mika said.

Namie sputtered something like a curse, but Mika jammed her knee up Namie's skirt, and that went away real fast.

"Or, hey," Mika said, holding herself close, brusing her breasts against Namie's in a motion that had to be deliberate. "Maybe you'd like this."

She took her right hand, traced it along Namie's side, and brought it up between their faces.

"You know, I've done a lot for Seiji with this hand," Mika said. "I bet you were watching, right? For some of it."

Namie grunted.

"Of course you were. That's part of the fun! I mean, it woud definitely still be fun if I just took this hand and strangled you right now, because then I'd have Seiji to myself, forever and ever, and maybe some of your love for him would find a new home in me. But, the thing is, I really am grateful to you, Nami-neesan. For this face, for another chance at Seiji's love. For keeping that head from him all these years." She paused, and pressed her finger into Namie's lips. "So I want to give you a twisted little present, Nami-neesan. I want to let you taste me."

"Why would I--"

But as soon as Namie opened her mouth, Mika sid her fingers in. Namie jerked, almost gagging, but Mika just kept talking. "Don't bite down now," she said. "Seiji likes the things this hand does. You know how I do it, right? How I tell him to close his eyes and imagine that thing, to ignore the rest of me and focus on my face? I'm very good at it, but it would be a shame if I couldn't do that anymore. He makes the most pitiful sounds when I edge him. Like he's dying, almost."

She retrieved her hand, wiping it off on Namie's sweater. Namie gasped, shuddering, feeling things she was really not certain she should be feeling. "I..." she sputtered. "I... loathe you. Loathe. You. More than anything in the world you are, the worst, lowest, most vile creature in existence." She thought of Orihara, for a moment, then dismissed the notion. "The _worst._ An impure stain on the species. So dirty and debased that your scattered atoms will never be a part of any good thing ever again. You are--"

Mika kissed her. They locked together, driving their tongues into each other, grunting and panting as their bodies strained like ships colliding on a cold dark sea. Mika pulled away, her grin wild like a cat's, like a hyena in a mating frenzy. "Yep," she said, grinding her hips against Namie's leg, so wet that Namie's could feel it. "I'm the worst. I'm sick, and I'm broken, and I'm eight hundred kinds of fucked up." She kissed Namie again, and her hand wandered down to her waist, sliding down into the band of her skirt, tugging down her pantyhose. "But see, the difference between you and me Nami-neesan? Me? I _know_ that."

Her fingers slid over Namie's panties, stroking, stroking, until Namie's body screamed and her throat moaned. Then, suddenly, Mika's fingers jerked the last layer of clothing away, and jammed inside.

Namie convulsed, as Mika tore into her. She growled something animal and kissed her. Hard. Mika reciprocated, holding her fingers so still inside Namie's aching slit that Namie could hardly help but twitch and buck.

"Hey, hey, are you enjoying this, Nami-neesan?" Mika said. "That's so _wrong._ Isn't it _vile_ to get off on the hand the fucks the one you love?"

Namie just kissed her again, prompting a sharp laugh form Mika.

The younger girl stroked twice, and Namie came, spasms wracking her whole body, eyes rolling back in her head. She almost screamed, but Mika held the kiss, swallowing the sounds. The fingers kept moving, setting off wave after wave of awful bliss, and for a moment Namie forgot who she was, who this was. For just a moment, it was even _fun._

She jerked and jerked and clawed at the couch, until gradually the feeling ebbed away. Mika slid out, her own breathing hot as she lifted the wet fingers to her lips. She slid them into her own mouth, sucking.

"Mm," she said, a redness sperading across her cheeks. "Your love tastes sweet, oneesan."

Namie panted, unable to look at the girl straddling her. Her mind swam with overwhelming emotion, a mixture of hatred and lust and something that sparkled like blood under a blacklight. Her body, completely without her input, twitched.

Mika, seeing this, bit her lip.

God fucking damnit, Yagiri Namie was hot.

It actually pissed her off. If it wasn't for Seiji's strange fixation, or more generally for his properly functioning half of the westermarck effect, Namie would definitely have had the hotness advantage. Thankfully, things had eventually worked out in her favor, but it still rankled. Namie had her body, had, at one time, had her money, had her proximity to Seiji growing up, had _every advantage._ Fuck, she'd even had control over the head itself!

If Mika had any one of those, she'd have won this silly fight years ago.

She licked her lips, sliding one hand down her skirt and the other up to Namie's breasts. She hummed as she did, shifting to rest her wait more firmly on the older woman's hips. "Hey, hey," she said, softly, tugging at the wire of Namie's bra. "You're not done yet, are you, Nami-nee?"

No response. Not the first time she'd been in that predicament. She smiled and worked the bra down under her sweater. "You're not the first girl I've played with, y'know," she said, and ran her fingers over Namie's breasts, catching on the nipples. She felt a shiver beneath her hands, and pressed in harder, grinning. “I know _exactly_ what buttons to press.” Her other hand slipped into her own panties, and she sighed at the familiar pleasure, the wetness already there.

She grinned, and lifted herself up. Shimmying forward, retrieving her hands at the same time. Namie had just enough time to realize what was happening, to open her eyes and start to shout a protest, before Mika let herself fall, smothering Namie in her sex.

"Mmm," she moaned. She felt Namie struggle, but she just pressed down harder. "Easy Nami-nee, you wouldn't want to damage this body, right? The body that makes Seiji feel good?" She shifted, grinding her panties into Namie's face, grinning like a monster. "You know I have an implant right? And since Seiji and I are exclusive, well..."

Namie stiffened like she understood. Mika felt her shaking, and when she looked down she saw the older woman looking back up at her, her eyes red with wrath and tears.

Mika laughed, and twisted herself around, making sure to keep herself pressed up on Namie's face. She settled, looking down at the gasping body of her rival, clothes rumpled and coming off. "Eat up Nami-nee!" she said, shifting her hips.

Then, suddenly, Namie's leg snapped up. Mika cried out as Namie's shoe crashed into her nose, hard enough to hurt but not break bone. She shifted back, and that was all her rival needed.

Mika felt Namie's arms go around her, and then felt Namie's shoulder slam into her abodmen. There was a moment where she could only gasp, breathlessly, and then she fell off the couch, arm bouncing painfully off the coffee table on the way down.

She cried out, but Namie's hand slammed down on her windpipe.

"You terrible, terrible girl," Namie spat, her eyes like a demon's, her teeth bared like the fangs of some wild dog. She spat on Mika's face. "I am going to _hurt_ you."

For the first time since coming here, Mika felt the slightest flutter of fear. Had she pushed Namie too far? That would be unfortunate. It would be very unfortunate if she didn't get to see Seiji again.

"No," Namie said, letting up just a little, just enough to let Mika breathe. "I'm not going to kill you, you pathetic piece of shit. Because you're right, I've seen you make Seiji happy. I've watched you make him happy over and over and over again. And you're right, for that alone, you do have some speck of worth to me."

Namie smiled, sweet as antifreeze, and Mika let out a nervous little laugh. _I am_ soooooooooo~oooooo _fucked,_ she thought.

"So I'm going to let you live, but I'm going to _hurt_ you," Namie said, her smile widening into a grin. "No, no, I'm going to _break_ you. Break you and put the pieces back together and break you again. And you will keep making Seiji happy, and you will keep loving him, but at the same time you will _obey_ me."

Mika cackled.

She grabbed Namie's tits and squeezed. Namie grunted, the blood rushing to her face turning her cheeks even pinker. She slapped Mika, but Mika didn't stop, digging her nails in through Namie's sweater. Apparently, that was all it took to push her over the edge.

With a single violent motion Namie yanked Mika's skirt down around her knees. Then she slammed her hips down.

Namie was hot. Both in the sense that Mika was getting off to this in a major way and that her fucking pussy felt like fire as she ground it against Mika, gasping.

Mika squeezed harder. "Come on, Nami-nee!" she cooed, throwing her hips into it. "I want you! I want you to fuck me!"

Namie smacked her across the face. "Shut up!" she said, but Mika just kept laughing, and Namie didn't stop rocking her hips. She hated this. Hated this girl who had stolen her Seiji, who had the fucking temerity to come to her like this, to _turn her on_ like this. But, at the same time, she felt the sick lust inside her burning.

Mika was grinning, her cheeks scarlet, her eyes sparkling like hellfire. "Fuck me!" she gasped. "Fuck me like you'd fuck Se--"

And, just like Mika had done, Namie jammed her fingers in Mika's mouth.

"I said," she said, "shut up."

Mika stared at her, her tongue twitching under Namie's hand as the older woman tilted her head, examining her like a corpse on the autopsy table. "You're right you know," she said. "I really do want to fuck you. To fuck you exactly like I'd fuck him. So pay attention you little bitch, because next time you do it, I want you to do it just like this. I want him to know exactly how I feel. Do you understand me?"

Mika nodded.

"Good," Namie said. She realized, belatedly, that she was smiling, as she took her fingers and wiped them dispassionately on Mika's shirt. "Then let's begin shall we?"

"You do realize I don't have a dick right?" Mika said. "That's gonna make this hard to reproduce."

"Then you'd better get fucking creative."

 

In the end, they both realized, Namie had been lying. She wasn't fucking Mika like she'd fuck Seiji. With Seiji, she would have been fueled by her (fucked up) love, soft and tender, gentle and focused on him alone.

This was something different, something bestial, roaring like gasoline on fire and smelling like dirt and sweat. It was, in that way, more real than any of Namie's fantasies, a realization which came with a substantial degree of rage, which in turn fueled some of her more... creative methods. She even let herself be overpowered a few times, letting Mika slip back into control, just so she could snatch the power back again and again.

Mika, of course, was having a blast either way. It wasn't at all like being with Seiji in any regard, but hey, she'd take both. Seiji wouldn't care.

If anything, he'd be glad that his girlfriend and his sister were finally done trying to kill each other.

 

It ended with a bang, of course. Which is to say, after a long series of bangs culminating in a double-event. A tied race. A synchronized performance, as it were. The two women, both momentarily stunned, fell off each other. Mika, for her part, fell off the couch and into the pile of slightly soggy clothes that had accumulated on the floor of the apartment.

She was sore, she realized, setting into a happy little afterglow. She was very naked, slightly bruised in more than a few tender places, and she was sore. She'd be even more sore in the morning.

"That... was awesome," she said. She chuckled, and rolled onto her arms, shakily pushing herself to her feet.

On the couch, Namie wasn't moving. Her breaths were slow, her arms at her sides, her buttocks rising over the armrest of the couch. Several large handprints stood out in red.

She would have looked unconscious if not for her eyes. Her head was pressed against the couch, but her eyes were awake, glaring.

Mika casually dressed herself, putting on the clothes she'd discarded, noting dispassionately that they smelled. _She_ smelled, in fact. Like sweat and sex.

"You... fuck..." Namie said.

"Well, it's late and I've gotta head home."

"Fucker."

Mika smirked, setting her hat on her head and hefting her purse. "Gotta take a shower and wash this stink off. Don't want any of it getting on Seiji."

" _Die."_

Mika just laughed and walked away. At the door, she turned back one last time, shooting her most genuine smirk at Namie as she did. "Let's do this again sometime!"

**Author's Note:**

> This whole fic came from one idea:
> 
> Namie and Mika are both really fucked up. But at least Mika *knows* it.


End file.
